


unlocked

by riyku



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, key kink, keys can totally be a kink and apparently isak has that kink, true fucking love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 08:29:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13830351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riyku/pseuds/riyku
Summary: The apartment door is closed, but only barely.  Locked.  Isak's backpack hits the floor, a dull thud and he winces, shoots a silent apology to their downstairs neighbor.  One shoe off, legs slotted around Even's, arms and jackets mixed up, tangled like everything else about them.  Every single thing.





	unlocked

**Author's Note:**

> tebtosca. the things i put her through. y'all have no idea. i owe her so much cake.
> 
> okay, so oddball wednesday evening fic, but it suddenly hit me that i've not posted anything in the month of february. although i've been working on loads of longer stuff for you guys, none of it is ready. cue panic-writing, because i had to post something this month. hope you enjoy!
> 
> key kink. yep. this was spawned by a thing that happened on twitter. 
> 
> if it's plot you're looking for, it's unlikely you'll find any here. there's hardly a scenario.

The apartment door is closed, but only barely. Locked. Isak's backpack hits the floor, a dull thud and he winces, shoots a silent apology to their downstairs neighbor. One shoe off, legs slotted around Even's, arms and jackets mixed up, tangled like everything else about them. Every single thing.

Even's other shoe knocks into Isak's ankle and Isak glances up, starts to say something about Even's footprint, the sidewalk dirt now on Isak's last clean pair of socks but it never makes it past his throat, because it's not as if he can bitch, not when Even's looking down at him like that. Like everything's stopped. Time. The universe. His heart. Not when Even's sliding his hand up along the door beside Isak's head, arms framing him, angling his body in, hip bone against hip bone. 

Even smells like coffee. Looks like heaven. Tastes better than both as he smiles into a kiss, licks into it, smiles again with his tongue still in Isak's mouth like he can't make up his mind which he wants to do more. He drops his hand to Isak's upper arm, sighs against Isak's mouth as Isak's hands find his waist, hold on tight, pull him close and fuck, Even's hard already. 

It's not surprising. A crowded tram, rush hour packed and that sorta full-body contact comes with a handful of consequences. Crowded or not, Isak would have ended up against Even anyway, swaying into him, closer as they turned corners, using Even for balance. Tall boy. Strong grip. A good center of gravity and an inclination to let Isak use it so long as it means he keeps touching him. 

The keyring is still looped over Even's thumb, forgotten while Even kisses him, pushes into him until Isak's back is flat against the door, heels to it, Even warm and solid all along his chest, stomach, thighs. He trails his finger down the outside of Isak's arm, from the stretch below his t-shirt, down into the ditch of his elbow, thin-skinned wrist, uses the backs of his fingers on the way up again and their house key trips along the softest, ticklish parts of his arm, makes him giggle in the middle of his quiet gasps, try to pull away and bury his face in Even's hair.

There's nowhere to go. Nowhere Isak wants to go anyway, still laughing as Even does it again, the teeth on the key scraping along his skin some. It's a newly cut one, more exact. Takes some wiggling for it to work in the lock. They haven't been living here long enough to wear away at their keys yet. It's sharper than the fingernails Even sometimes uses on him, but the way Even draws it down the inside of his arm is more gentle, and so are the zigzags once he realizes it's doing something to Isak. Getting him somewhere.

"Interesting," Even says, zeroed in on Isak's mouth, how he hisses in a breath between his teeth when Even sets the point of the key against his wrist, turns it. He shoves at Isak's shirt until it's gathered under his arms, snaps open Isak's pants and lets them drop like it's an afterthought. Leaves Isak bare, exposed, twice as warm as he was a minute ago, back when he was fully clothed. 

"More interesting," Even goes on, hoarser, voice deeper as he drags the key across one hip bone and then the other, leaving behind faint scratch marks that turn red after Even has moved on, chosen a different patch of flesh. Isak's stomach, his chest, circled around and around Isak's nipples until the skin there is pebbled with goosebumps, brightened to the color of roses.

Isak kicks at his pants and boxers until they're hooked around one ankle, wonders what kinda picture he must make right now, so fucking gone as Even traces slim metal all over his body, t-shirt bunched in his armpits, pants in a puddle at his feet, snapback still cocked crooked on his head, a butterfly-shaped flush spreading over his chest, dick as darkly flushed as his cheeks have got to be.

"Fuck off," Isak teases, kisses Even before turning to face the door, forearms on reinforced wood, feet spread. Head dipped down, ass tipped up. "Keep doing it. Don't tell me where you're going next."

"I won't say a word," Even promises, and sets the key to Isak's spine, weaving between knobby vertebrae, cold at first but gradually warming up to body temperature. Even takes the joint of Isak's shoulder and neck into his mouth and rocks against him, belt buckle hard against Isak's exposed ass, his jeans rough enough to feel really fucking good. A frustrated sound, metal on metal and now that's Even's skin on him, hard and soft and wet, his cock slotting into the crack of Isak's ass before the key bites into his skin again.

Down. Further down. Even's mouth still on his shoulder, the key on the small of his back and there's a moment where Isak wonders how far Even would go with this. A curiosity that only makes him run even hotter, because he's only ever had Even's dick or tongue or fingers up his ass, and he hasn't had the chance to get very far into the object insertion tag on PornHub, but he's sure as fuck not against it, trusts Even to keep him safe as houses.

"What's that?" Isak asks. "Do it again." And Even does, draws a figure-eight with the tip of the key, traces it over and over, a little bigger every time until Isak gets it. 

"Forever," Isak says, and it would seem impossible, but the thought of Even's artwork etched into his skin, temporary or not makes him harder. Makes him rock his hip forward until his dick is up against the door, painting it with slick little trails.

No big deal. It's not the first time.

Another series of lines. "That's you. Even. You always dig in on the first letter." Isak props his forehead on the crook of his elbow, sweat-damp canvas, but he leaves his snapback on, has the idea that Even likes it when he does. "And that's me. You always dig in on the first letter," Isak repeats. 

"Infinite," Even mutters, and it's drowned out, barely audible over the rush of blood in Isak's ears, another gentle scrape of the key, unexpectedly lower, where his thigh meets his ass as Even rubs off on Isak's crack, gets him wet and slick with precome. Sloppy sweat everywhere. The key digs in and is surprising enough that Isak groans, mouth open against the door.

"Fuck, Even. That's. That's." Isak cuts off, not too sure where to go from there, setting his feet wider and pushing back onto Even's dick. Spit on his palm and another try when it's too dry the first time. More spit from Even this time because he knows exactly how much Isak can take. Knows Isak's body better than he knows his own, what will make him gasp or moan or grit his teeth. What makes him happy and what makes him laugh and how Isak has trouble sleeping nowadays unless Even's spread out underneath him. How Even's heartbeat wins out over white noise any day of the week.

Soft hums and a breathed out, "Yeah, yeah," from Isak, and Even's hair is tickling his jaw and he's hitching forward, shoving Isak up and up. Isak's cheek against the door and his mouth smashed against it, fingers curled into loose fists as Even works his dick inside, gets in as far as he can go. 

Thighs matched. Breathe. Breathe. He might be stepping on Even's toes. If he is, Even will never say. The keyring is still around Even's thumb, the keys clinking together like dim, dull windchimes. It's at eye level, Even's palm starfished beside Isak's face, flat on the door, and there are coffee grounds under his fingernails. Smudged permanent marker from writing names on cups for the last eight hours and Isak loves him so much. So much. In uncountable ways.

Even backs out, fucks back in and Isak sorta comes to, realizes he checked out for a second there, let himself get twisted up in Even's arm around his middle, Even's hand tugging his orgasm out of him, Even's dick moving in and out, getting him wetter, stretching him out, Even's forehead resting between his shoulders, hot and sweaty like fever, mouthing at him, letting him feel his teeth, the flutter of his eyelashes, the way his ribs expand and contract. 

Isak moans again, louder than he meant to be, not completely in charge of his voice right now as he shoots, feels Even get harder inside of him and knows that he's close too. Even hushes him, mutters something about an echo, tells him to listen for the footsteps and now Isak can hear two sets of them on the other side of the door, tries like hell to put a stop to his grunts, the heavy breathing, all the groans. He tries and can't, and Even puts his hand over his mouth, just a little something to make it so that Isak can look their neighbors in the eye in the weeks to come. Better though, because the keyring is in that hand, metal gone cold again and nudging at Isak’s lips. Smooth edge slipping in, rougher notched edge on his tongue, the zinging metallic taste mixed with the salt from Even’s fingers, warming to the temperature of his spit, knocking against his teeth. It’s oddly grounding, stark contrast to the pound of Even’s hips against his ass, the lowdown grind as Even edges closer in a last ditch, wasted effort to make himself last a few seconds more. Isak mumbles nonsense, stuff like yeah and good and c’mon. A bite to his shoulder as Even comes, a bite that Isak mirrors, catching a little of Even’s skin along with the key, then curling his tongue into the ring, breathing heavy through his nose as the dizziness sets in.

"So, keys, huh? You're into keys," Even says, as deadpan as he ever gets, forehead still resting against Isak's skin, breath hot on his neck.

"Apparently," Isak answers, and yeah, it looks like he had been standing on Even's feet. He moves, careful to keep Even tucked up inside of him. "But I mostly think I'm just into you."

\--end

 

thanks for reading!


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